Similar To A Butterfly
by The Grand Dutchess
Summary: I, Rhonda Lloyd, have never been more shocked by what happened and I guess that you, faithful reader, just heard the rumours, what I'm about tell you is my side of the story. The truth. Afterall, everyone deserves the truth, even someone like you.
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE**

**In which life takes a complete 360**

**met·a·mor·pho·sis [met-uh-mawr-fuh-sis] : any complete change in appearance, character, circumstances, etc.**

**I**t all started on the day I came back from Brazil. A really long, expensive, totally outrageous and fun holiday that left me in a cloud of utmost euphoria and swimming in a sea of my own hormones. The hormones, I guess, had to be from the insane flirting (and kissing) experience I had with beautiful, tanned, toned and debauched Brazilian guys who were so in awe of me that one wanted to elope with me and the others begged me to stay longer.

I mean, I know that wherever I go, people immediately fall in love with me, I can't help it that's just how I am, but these gorgeous guys really shocked me because they were really taken with me. I mean, really. I was flattered but I wasn't ready for anything serious like _eloping_. Which would be hard to explain to my parents and to other people depending on me. I can't exactly just elope and then call my parents dropping a bomb like 'Hey! Mom, Dad, remember that guy Estefan? Well, I just eloped with him because we're totally in love with each other but don't worry about me, alright? Oh, by the way, now I'm knocked up with his baby because if you're married to him, you'll be knocked up too!'.

Like, hello! I'm only seventeen but I guess that does not matter when people look at me and just marvel at the absolute power I yield because I am Rhonda Wellington Lloyd. Yes, the one and only. The heiress to a multi-billion dollar fortune and the owner of three new sports cars, a clothing line and a cute little puppy named Bobo.

Okay, I am guilty for naming my dog Bobo, after being sober from the margaritas I gulped the night I got my dog I realised that Bobo is a pretty stupid and ugly name. Furthermore, I learnt from my friend Tessa who is a Filipina, that Bobo _actually_ means stupid in Tagalog, one of the main languages spoken in the Philippines. Let me tell you, to protect my dog from humiliation all caused by myself who gave him a literally stupid name, I will absolutely not, under any circumstances, bring Bobo to the Philippines.

Yes, I do have a heart.

I'm getting side-tracked, so I came back from Brazil after months of heavy partying and playing nice with the rest of the rich and famous and guess what I came home to? A really sad Bobo and an envious best friend, Nadine, who told me that someone had majorly changed during the summer. I had really no idea who but apparently that certain someone has been the talk of everybody in town, even extending to social networking sites like Facebook. This of course, got my attention.

As soon as I unpacked and took the amazing clothes I hauled from Brazil from my pink Louis Vuitton luggage I immediately dialled Nadine with my red iPhone. "So, what's the scoop? What's so important that you had to make a costly overseas call only for the staff to answer and tell you I wasn't there?" Bobo jumped on the bed and I scratched his little tummy which he seemed to like.

"Uh, who's this?" a childish voice from the other line whispered. Oh, crap, Nadine's brother Charlie.

"Oh, hey, Charlie! Could you pass the phone to your sister? It's me, Rhonda!" I chirpily replied to the six year old kid. A kid who looked exactly like Nadine when she was his age but had this brilliant maturity level that often surprised adults during dinner parties and other social events.

"Whatever," he muttered. So much for mature. I heard him scream in the background, "Nadine! Rhonda's on the phone!" Then I heard him mumble as I strained to hear if Nadine's approaching, "She's probably going to gossip with you about boys again. However, I don't see anything that interesting about us anyway."

"Hey!" I yelled, appalled that a six year old thought that's all his sister and I do in our spare time. We do talk about important stuff too! Like economics, world hunger and politics… Wait, have Nadine and I actually discussed those things?

Eventually I heard a thud, which meant that Charlie dropped the phone and run off to be _mature_ somewhere else. Thank goodness.

All of a sudden I heard shallow breathing, reminiscent of scary movie phone calls, then , "Hey, chica! Are you home already?"

I nodded then figuring Nadine could not see me I said, "Yeah," and dropped to my bed, exhausted. Bobo followed suit and laid down on the bed, why was he so tired when all he did was lounge around the house all day?

Suddenly, the ten hour flight was taking a toll on my travel weary body and I sighed a happy sigh as the comforter swallowed me whole. It was good to be home. Sure, the hotel was nice and all but nothing could compare to the feeling of being home. Having a look around at my large room with shiny teak floors and walls painted with the colour scheme of pink and brown, I smiled happily and continued. "Yes, I am definitely home. So, are you going to tell me whatever it is you were going to tell me, because I really don't like the suspense?"

"It's really going to shock you!" she said excitedly. "But on, second thought, I don't think I should say anything. You should really see for yourself. You'll find out soon enough, tomorrow to be exact." The tone of her voice made me suspicious. What was going on?

I sat up, trapping the phone between my cheek and my shoulder. "Why are you making this more suspenseful than it already is? I wanna know! As your best friend, don't I have the right to know from you all the salacious gossip being passed around while I wasn't in town?"

"It's more fun if you see for yourself tomorrow," she sang.

"But Na—"

She hung up on me. She hung up on me! The nerve of the girl! I wanted to dial again but figured she still wouldn't really give me an answer. Nadine can be pretty persistent when she wants to so I would really have been just wasting my time but as I look back on it now, maybe knowing about it would have prepared me for what would have happened the next day; the first day of my sophomore year.

Being really really tired and starved from my flight (what? You expected me to eat airline food? Didn't think so), I got up from my bed, changed into a tank top and pajama bottoms, ordered food to be brought up to my room, eat said food and then within two shakes of my lamp's tail I was fast asleep. The earliest I have ever slept in a long time, 4:36 PM. I didn't wake up until the next day…

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**T**he next day, I woke feeling bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, kind of what I think an ecstatic popstar feels like in the morning. Stretching my arms, I thought of how coffee would be awesome at that moment. I noticed it was just 6:05 and I grinned knowing that most of the people in the mansion, except for the morning staff, were still asleep.

I pulled the immaculate white covers off me carefully so that Bobo won't wake up as well then tiptoed to my ginormous walk-in closet that had everything from Oriental amber earrings to skinny jeans, from Prada to Anna Sui to Fendi. It contained only the latest and greatest fashion picks; clothes, shoes, accessories and makeup. _This_ was what I have always loved about being an heiress. Oh, the perks of being a rich daughter. Let me count the ways…

I breathed in the scent of newly arrived leather and squealed happily when I saw the stunning and just wonderful pair of Bonomo from the Autumn/Winter collection of Manolo Blahnik. I could just die of fashion bliss! I tried them on and they fit perfectly. At least, I had the shoes picked out for the day.

Next, I went to the clothes section of the closet and picked up the silver Universal Remote that sat atop the long, shiny, black countertop that stretched from one end of the closet to the other. Underneath the countertop are drawers filled with makeup and jewellery organised by color and occasion. I usually choose cheap but funky jewellery for school so that if I lose any, I could just shrug and say 'So what? It only cost me twenty bucks'. And so I headed for the section and chose red, dangling earrings shaped like ribbons and pulled out my "Going to School" make up kit consisting of concealer, foundation, lipstick and eyeshadow, all from MAC.

After that, I pressed the touchscreen icon that said 'Clothes' and soon the seemingly ordinary gold-metallic wall opposite the countertop parted to reveal a circulating rack of clothing, moving at a suitable pace for me to see what I would like to wear for the day.

I eyed a tight red Angora sweater that have never been worn before and hot black pants that just appealed to me to match the black and white shoes. Since it was extra chilly that day, I saw on the Universal Remote that it was 36.7 degrees Fahrenheit, I took a white trench coat with gold accents.

I saw going to look so kickass but immediately realised that the gifts for my friends that I bought from Brazil was still marinating in my bag so I called someone to unpack the rest of my stuff and wrap the gifts and put them in a bag altogether. With that done, I was content with what I had achieved and saw that it was only 6:37. I sighed. It was still early so I dawdled in the shower, I scrubbed, shampooed, plucked, shaved, waxed; all the nasty things that one does in the shower to look and smell good.

It was 7:15 when I got out of the shower and by then I was impatient and frustrated. I hate to admit it but I was definitely curious as to what Nadine was so excited about. I could not think of a single juicy gossip that would require her to keep it from me so that I could "see for myself". What did that mean?

So, by the time the chauffeur drove the white S-Class Mercedes Benz car pulled around in front of the mansion, I had already eaten my heart-healthy breakfast which consisted of scrambled egg whites, toast and Columbian coffee, packed all the stuff I needed for school, was dressed in the outfit I had chosen, styled my long dark hair and applied red lipstick.

After all this preparation, you may wonder why I actually just go to public school, East Farley High School. One part of it is because I like to look good wherever I go, we Lloyds always do and the second reason is actually because I started my education in a public school.

By the time I was fourteen, when my parents thought of transferring me to a private school, I already had this unchangeable and unshakeable belief that public school is more beneficial for me than those hoity-toity, posh private schools that people as rich as me were required to go to. I guess I hated the constant 'My kid is better than your kid' drama that my peers in private schools faced. Each one of them just _had_ to be better at everything than other students whether it be playing the violin or reciting Shakespeare in Greek or Latin.

The stressful competition was just not for me so my parents thought it best for me to enter a public school. However, it had to be the best public school in the state and luckily, by some twist of fate, most of my classmates from elementary and middle school made it to East Farley, one of the most prestigious high schools in the state due to the great curricular programs.

And let me tell you, I enjoyed every experience in public school (except experiences with him but more on that later) that I had. The people in public school, my schoolmates, were much more interesting and diverse than those stuck up, snot-nosed, pompous teenagers that occupied private schools who had this innate thought that they were superior than the rest of the world. How I loathed spending time with them during social functions but could not be impolite in fear of my family name being besmirched or ridiculed.

And so, I went to public school, where I learnt to be giving and generous and accept all types of people and try to make friends with everyone. Moreover, not being blinded by prejudice and not judging a book by its cover is essential to becoming a great person. Public school taught me that.

After the staff had packed everything in the car, all that was needed was for me to get in. I got in the car and waved at the people who worked hard at managing my home, the staff, smiled at the driver and told him to stop by Nadine's place.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"Here's one for you, for you and… Wait, that one is for Helga," I said, jumbling presents around as my friends' eager hands tried to get theirs.

"What did you get me, Princess?" Helga asked as she lifted the box close to her ear and shook it.

"Nothing fragile," I smiled.

"Oh, glad to hear it," she muttered and continued shaking the box. Nadine who already opened her present in the car and adored it, I got her a necklace with a silver chain and a blue pearl pendant, was smiling and watching Helga as she shook the box maniacally.

Phoebe, Sheena and Lila were opening theirs. For Phoebe I got a book she really wanted which has a title I can't pronounce, for Sheena a wristwatch that had a green strap with leaves painted on it and the watch part with pink petals around it and for Lila, I got her a deep green sundress that really brightened her eyes and matched her hair. They all loved their presents and thanked me profusely with such big smiles on their faces that I knew this was one of those really great heiress' perks and that I would by them a million other gifts just to see those expressions again.

In the meantime. Helga was still shaking the box. "You could just open it," I suggested.

"_Princess_," she hissed, "that would ruin the surprise. You already gave me the gift, and for that I thank you, now lemme do my part by choosing however and whenever I open my present."

I raised my hands up in surrender as all the other girls giggled, Lila even snorted, and Helga gave us scathing look. We got up the steps of the old school building that haven't been used in year and was about to be renovated. We had been meeting up there for the past years.

That was my clique. Girls that could not be any more different from each other but somehow when we are together, we mesh really well. And just to prove how different we are from each other I'll tell you all our characteristics and habits.

Me, Rhonda Lloyd Wellington, the leader. I know that I can be vain, being born with great looks does come with a price, and I'm stubborn and I am horrible when it comes to music but I love to dance. I am popular, no, not because of my money, it is due to my ability to talk to people like I know them and this has really gained me a lot of friends.

I know some, okay, a lot of people think that I'm just popular because I'm pretty and rich but I think there's more to it than that. I could be rich and pretty but be antisocial and have no friends because people will think I'm a snob.

I am tall, have dark hair and hazel eyes that some people think are green while others brown. I also seem to have an all-around tan.

Then there's Helga, who likes to think she's the leader. But, come on, of course, I'm really the leader. Helga is brash, confident, could be menacing but in reality, she's a big softie and a gigantic romantic. Sure, she could be sarcastic and mean but sometimes, I get so exasperated with her because most of us can see it's pretend. She's doing it all to mask something big. Something I'm sure is going to be amazing. We are all just waiting for it.

On another note, Helga has beautiful slightly wavy blonde hair that she always keeps tied up in a ponytail with her beloved pink bow that works for her and stunning blue, Slavic eyes that have been quite unnoticed until we plucked that hideous unibrow that hid them last year. Apparently, boys think she's a knockout now. I think she is too, just not in the same way. The way I see it, Helga is a knockout, in a sense that if you piss her off, she'll knock you out.

Phoebe is a different story, the smartest of all of us, had an early admission to Harvard she did not accept. When asked why, she just shrugged and said she wanted to be with our friends which appreciated and suited us because we wanted to be with her too. Always top of the class, has an unbelievable winning streak in the scholastic decathlon thing that she does and has enormous appeal to the opposite sex. Must be related to the fact that she's a very adorable, petite Asian with exotic eyes that told stories of cherry blossom trees and samurais.

She does not like conflict and can sometimes be perceived us a very quiet girl but I know she's just observant and is probably the only person Helga talks to about everything. Those two have been sewn in the hip since young.

Just like Phoebe, Sheena is a pacifist and is very non-confrontational. She also hates hates hates commercialism and likes to buy items that are hand crafted or are homemade. That's why I got her the flowerwatch, I got it from a boutique. She's also like a really cool hippie but without the drugs and a vegetarian. Being a member of PETA, she totally despised me and only forgave me after I apologized a thousand times about wearing the mink coat when we were young. Now I only wear faux fur because Sheena, I know, will rip my throat out. What a lot of people don't know is that she actually has temper. A huge one, that she can easily hide because it doesn't come out until somebody or someone has gotten her really mad.

And then, there's Lila. Sweet girl, very polite and friendly and to sum her up in one word, really, perfect. Nobody can find a flaw in Lila Sawyer. She is too perfect actually. Nice and caring, compassionate and a great friend. She really is one of those girls that one would love to hate, just because, but then you can't hate her because she's just too nice.

Her red hair and her creamy complexion just adds to her glamour, and even though Helga and her are complete opposites, she is the second most closest person to her. I think she also knows the BIG secret that Helga is yet to reveal. Still, it's Helga's decision, if she's ready, she'll tell us, if not, we certainly won't force her.

Finally, Nadine, similar to Alicia Keys, she is actually a mix of African American and Caucasian blood and the result is beautiful. I know I keep saying my friends are gorgeous but really, they are, makes me kind of sad that I actually have to work at it and it just comes to them naturally.

Nadine is truly spunky and has an attitude, not a bad attitude, an interesting one. We may clash sometimes but we've remained friends since we're young which is blessing because I don't think anyone can ever understand me that way Nadine does. We can almost speak telepathically to each other like most best friends.

I was just thanking God, something I don't do very often, for giving me such a group of great friends when I walked inside our school building and the crowd parted to let us through, it was the same old, same old, and I realised something was missing… or _someone._

That was usually the time when Curly would harass me with his suggestive flirting and loads of presents that I don't really need. Now, it used to be that Curly had been intense, confessing his love publically and doing graffiti on the wall saying he loved me, that he got suspended for, but over the years he mellowed down. The big emotional daily confessions lessened, present piles from him got smaller and the flirting still happened, but at a much toned down level. And that day, on the first day of junior year, I wondered if I finally lost his interest and attention after years of ignoring him.

I walked, along the hallways with a confident smile on my face, reasoning that this year would be great, it would just be alright but I have this feeling, in my chest, that things weren't exactly perfect. I was walking with my awesome friends, wearing awesome clothes and all I could think of was where was that guy?

Weren't he supposed to be there? Eager to greet me? Apparently not!

I was really mulling my head over that issue until I saw a cute, tall guy twirling his finger around a girl's hair, a girl who was leaning on the lockers. Not just any girl either, my arch nemesis to be exact, Allegra Harlton, heiress to Harlton airlines and automobiles.

I stopped and I knew all of my friends stopped too. Then I whispered to Helga, who was beside me, "Who's that guy, flirting with Allegra? Is he new?"

She gave me an incredulous look that seemed to say "Are you out of your goddamned mind?". I turned to the rest of them, I knew they all heard what I said, they gave me the same puzzled look that Helga was giving me except one of them. Nadine was smiling knowingly and at the pit of my stomach I knew this was what she didn't want to tell me on the phone the night before. The someone everyone was talking about.

On impulse, I turned to the guy again, he was still twirling Allegra's hair. Probably has a disturbing hair fetish, I thought.

And then I noticed that he had a mop of jet black hair, long, gangly limbs that made him seem like a rockstar and a charming grin, if I was Lila: an _ever so_ familiar grin that made me swallow and choke on my own spit.

Shut up.

Nooooooooo. Freaking. Way.

How could this be?

In a span of one summer, the boy who **had** loved and adored me and had kissed the ground I walked on for years had changed. Gone was the bowl cut and the chunky glasses, so was that awful t-shirt and pants unsuitable for any human being. In its place was a great haircut, a black polo shirt and jeans that were stylishly baggy secured with a clunky belt. He was taller. More matured looking. Finally growing into that nose and jaw and was showcasing those breath-taking eyes that I have only seen once in my life.

Curly had gone through a complete change.

A metamorphosis, so to speak and it shocked me and rocked me to my very core because in a million years, that's really long time, I would never have predicted this happening.

It made my heart hammer fast in my chest and my hands sweat and made all of the people in that same hallway stare at me weirdly as I'm sure the expression in my face must have been a horrifying one.

A look of pure horror.

There was silence. Nothing but awkward, dramatic, I can hear a pin if it drops silence. It dragged on and I guess the two lovebirds noticed the quiet and glanced up, taking a pause in their flirting session.

I gulped then growled through gritted teeth, "_This _was what you didn't want to tell me?"

I heard her squeak in return, "It seemed like a good idea at the time, I didn't know it'll be this intense."

"Intense?" Helga scoffed. "So what if Curly's had a growth spurt, got some fashion sense, turned into a total 'hottie', became popular during the summer and is now engaging in 'stimulating' conversation with Allegra Harlton. _I _could not care less. We're going to be late for class, let's move on."

Now, of course, Helga just had to say it in this loud, patronizing voice that was heard through the deafening silence in the hallway. The two lovebirds who were scanning with their eyes the cause of the silence in the crowd found their target.

Me.

For a moment, he and I locked eyes.

He was… different. He seemed calculating and… just, not really bothered to see me. On the other hand, Allegra, however, the smug bitch, grinned like she won the frickin' Texas Derby or something.

_I've got your "man"…_ she seemed to say with her eyes.

Fine, she could have my leftovers. Or actually, my unwanted meal that suddenly became appealing…

Helga walked on and I sighed, the crowd, along with my four other friends, awaited my next move. Just like a chess game.

He was watching me too. Those eyes he used to hid behind those ugly glasses boring down on me as I decided if this was a big chess game, I would win.

So I smiled, smirked really, at him, at them, at everyone, and it took him aback. It took everyone aback.

And I walked on, passing _them _by with total confidence. So what?

You moved on, big deal. Like I wanted your attention in the first place.

"Rhonda, I'm so sorry, I honestly th—" I heard Nadine say as all of them tried catch up with me when I was already a distance from the "adorable" couple.

"You know what? It's fine! I'm glad actually, finally that boy is moving on! It's really something isn't it? Good for him! Really!" I said cheerfully but all of them looked unconvinced.

I let out a shaky breath then said softly, "Guys, it's fine, I'm fine, we're all fine. Let's be glad for Curly and get the heck out of this silent hallway."

They all nodded and we headed to class then I think of what I said.

No, it wasn't fine. I despised that his loyalty to me was no more but I couldn't really act like an insolent child and throw a tantrum over it. Put the past behind us and all that. Besides, if he had caught bitchier, skankier fish, who am I to stop him from regretting the fact that he reeled her in.

I am Rhonda Lloyd. I don't ever become sad about some pathetic boy despite what everyone thinks.

I'm a woman. Hear me roar, or at least listen to me as I stomp all the way to my Biology class…


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

**In which Rhonda slowly loses her mind**

**hys•te•ri•a [hi-ster-ee-uh, -steer-] : an uncontrollable outburst of emotion or fear, often characterized by irrationality, laughter, weeping, etc.**

A few weeks had passed, hence the excitement about Curly's big "transformation" had gone down. Not way down, just less talk, less stares, less gossip. Just less but not to the point where no one is talking about him. They still talk about him, the students of East Farley who I guess have nothing better to do with their lives than spread rumors and talk about other people's business. Totally no judgment but I guess I'm better than them because I have never said a thing about it, not one bit. I won't give _him _the satisfaction as he watches me with his dark eyes while making out with Allegra. Or as he chuckle at all her silly nonsense, showing the world, or at least East Farley, that he is having the time of his life.

My friends, however, are another issue. He is all they talk about. And if they are talking about someone else, they'll suddenly pull his name into the conversation. They are very skilled at doing that. So on Monday, three weeks after I got back to school, I was really relieved to be sitting alone at lunch even though this would normally not be the case. Hey, a girl needs some me time and I earned it. If my friends could only talk about Curly, or as he likes to be called now, Thad, then I guess I can find other interesting human beings to talk to.

I really thanked god that Phoebe's, Nadine's, Lila's and Sheena's lunch break was the next period.

Unfortunately or fortunately, whatever way you want to look at it, Helga and I had the same lunch period that particular Monday.

I was staring at my unrecognisable blob of meat which was what the school served as "lunch" when a willowy blonde sat next to me, dumping her tray on the table filled with food that can actually be consumed by humans. Ah, Helga, she never ceased to amaze.

"Where did you get that?" I focus on the salad and breadsticks on her plate packed in a plastic box.

"It's from home," she said tonelessly with a flat expression then motioned to my, er, is it even considered lunch? "Why are you going to eat that crap? Did your awesome chef hired straight from France quit or something? You know our school's food is terrible."

I was going to take a bite when she scolded, "I'm serious. Throw that away! You might get hepatitis or some other deadly disease."

I peered down on my food in disgust. It was brown and chunky, smelled kind of funky too. Helga's right. I wasn't going to eat that crap. Then, I looked at her.

At least Helga was enjoying her meal, she dug in ferociously like a hungry lion eating a gazelle. I cringed. Ergh. Table manners, girl, I thought as a few crumbs of breadstick fell onto her shirt then I noticed she was wearing my gift. I smiled. It was the white, body-hugging t-shirt from Brazil that had a picture of a cute, pink bow dabsmack in the middle of it. I instantly thought of Helga when I saw it. I was quite glad she liked it. One thing's for sure, Helga is picky.

"So where's the rest?" she asked as she swung her fork around with a lettuce still stuck to it. I tried to edge away from her in hopes that salad dressing won't get to my shirt. Too late.

"Geez, Helga!" I muttered as I wiped away a tissue.

"Sorry," she said, muffled by the food in her mouth.

"And to answer your question, their lunch is next period," I said huffily as I tried to rid of the salad dressing from my new black Prada dress that I just got yesterday. I sighed, luckily none got to my red cropped jacket.

"Whew! Finally, just you and me Rhonda old girl!"

"I'm not old!" I said in protest.

"Of course you're not. It's an expression."

"Pretty uncommon expression," I said under my breath, giving up on the dress. I could just change.

"I finally have peace and quiet! No more talks about him, like he's so freaking fascinating. It's not like he revealed he's gay then upped and moved to Italy."

"Who are you talking about?" I asked.

Helga gave me a look then said, "You know who I'm talking about."

"Oh," I said, for lack of things to say.

"I really mean I could not care less whether he's playing tonsil basketball or hockey or whatever sport you can come up with with Allegra Harlton! So what? The guy grew some balls then asked out probably the shallowest girl in this school. Aaaaand, I guess you're on my side?"

"The couldn't care less side? Positive." I nodded and she grinned.

"Great. We're going to get along just fine. We can avoid the others and hang out together until they get sick of bringing him up in conversation all the time," she growled as she pierced her salad with her plastic fork. I have to say that sometimes Helga was scary without meaning to.

"Do you think… maybe he's trying to make me feel jealous?" I asked curiously as I saw Helga's expression turned from annoyance to shock.

"Oh no! No! No. I thought we weren't talking about him? Were you lying to me, Rhonda Lloyd?" she gasped.

"No! Of course not! I'm just saying, it's all very out of the blue and whatnot. I've always seen him as, you know, the class psychopath who didn't have a fashion sense and now because of a growth spurt, a great haircut and some new jeans suddenly he's hot shit and is dating an heiress? It seems… I don't know, surreal, perhaps?"

Curly, I mean Thad wasn't even in Allegra's radar the whole of last year. She was totally out of his league, not even league but maybe a different baseball stadium in a different planet in different galaxy was more like it. Now, as it seems, things have changed.

Helga stared at me, jaw hanging, fork with lettuce poised below her mouth. She was, I guess to describe it in a word, whammied, like she didn't expect what I said. And I guess I didn't too.

"So you care?" she stated simply as she got over the whammy.

"Uh… To a certain extent, yes, but not overly. It'll be unhuman of me not to care. The guy worshipped me the whole of my childhood and part of my adolescence," I admitted.

"Unhuman is not a word," Helga said as she got back to eating her salad.

"Yes, but it seems wrong to use inhumane in this situation."

"This time, it just might be the correct term," she said and at that moment in walks the happy couple. They were holding hands and gazing at each other adoringly. I remember he used to gaze at me adoringly like that too but I stuffed that memory in a deep, dark place that I never have to visit again.

Their long walk from the canteen doors to the food station was watched by every pair of eyes in the cafeteria. I didn't have to look around and confirm this, I just felt that all eyes were on them.

He's taller than her by about a foot even though after the growth spurt he's probably only taller than me by three inches, I am six feet tall. They… I hated to say, match. He had dark hair, she is a blonde. He has a more swarthy skin tone like mine and she's a pale-skinned vampire witch. He's tall, she's short. A real true to life case of opposites attract. They looked good together, I grudgingly admitted to myself as I squashed feelings of hurt and betrayal. Hurt and betrayal? It's not as if he inflicted any of those. Then again, why did it sting for me to see them all lovey-dovey and stuff?

So what? Pink would say but I still looked down and felt Helga's gaze on my right shoulder.

The cafeteria was silent but for the steps of East Farley's "Brangelina" so I knew that when the sound got louder and I saw a pair of yellow Ferragamos encasing tiny feet that they made a quaint little stop at our table. I mentally groaned. What the hell do they want? I thought as I looked up and basically heard Helga smirk. That's right, heard. Or sensed or whatever.

When I gazed up, expecting to see Little Miss Perfect's (no, not Lila's, Allegra's) face, I was taken aback to find his instead. This wasn't Curly, I wanted to blurt out. Someone had taken that boy and replace him with a more than decent looking guy that bore a resemblance to the boy I used to know.

He was staring at me coolly. Allegra, the smug witch, was grinning beside him, an arm hooked to the crook of his.

"So, how are you, Rhonda?" her shrill voice filled the dead air and from beside me I heard Helga snort.

Oh, so we're on polite terms now after you stole my man.

Stole my man? Where the heck did that come from?

"I'm fine, Leggy, how are you?" I said sweetly, using her most hated surname. I saw it had an effect because her right eye twitched.

"Just peachy, I want to introduce you to my new boyfriend, Thad Gammelthorpe," she beamed happily then gave him a kiss on his cheek. He was still looking at me but he grinned. I wanted to stab the slice of inedible meat in front of me.

"We've met," I said flatly and saw Helga's 'doi' face so I added, "And we're well acquainted, wouldn't you say so, Thad?" I added a tone innuendo that suggested my relationship with Curly was more than people thought they knew.

Curly visibly gulped while Allegra's face scrunched up in disbelief.

Score!

"Anyway, Allegra it's nice seeing you. However, such a shame about your skin, you really do need to go on a holiday to get a healthy tan. Such a pasty look isn't suited for you," I teased as her jaw hanged lower than it did before. Curly, on the other hand, was trying to cover his amusement by bending down his head.

Helga and I got up. She gave me this "I'm proud of you but would you hurry it up?" look.

So I said, "Bye, you two lovebirds. Helga and I have the next period occupied. Until next time, Allegra, Curly."

"It's Thad," he corrected. I gave him a final glance and I thought I saw something in those eyes as he looked at me. Regret? Pain? I couldn't be bothered so I turned away.

"Whatever," I said as Helga and I walked out of the cafeteria.

"Good job, prin-cess!" Helga congratulated me as soon as we went through the cafeteria doors and were in the safe capacity of the hallways.

"Yeah, thanks… for nothing. You just sat there quietly like you were watching a soap opera! All that was missing was popcorn," I snapped.

"Hey, you gotta fight your own battles," she said with a smile then put an arm around my shoulders, "And I think you just won one today."

Really? Then why did it feel like I lost something, remembering the faraway glimpse in those eyes.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"I'm home!" I hollered as soon as I went through the front door. There was no response. Nada. Zilch. Zeeero.

"Hello?" I called out. Did I enter the wrong house? I looked at a family portrait with me in it, I guess not. It was the right house. With no one inside it.

Suddenly, I heard a consistent clacking against wood. Someone was coming down the stairs.

"Oh, Emilla! Do you know where everyone is?" I asked the domestic helper as she ran down the stairs. She appeared tired, her hair was a mess and she was pale, not because of lack of sun, but because it seemed like she was going to throw up. "Emilla, are you okay?"

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she smiled at me. "I'm fine, Miss Rhonda. Just very very very exhausted."

"Gee, shouldn't Pauline be taking over your shift by now? And where is everybody?"

"Yes," she nodded, "but Pauline and most of the staff are at the event your father is having, they're helping out."

"Are they getting paid extra?" I asked, concerned.

"Of course, we were given three weeks notice if wanted to help out but I volunteered to stay," she sighed. And man, volunteering to stay is a mistake, I almost said aloud.

"Have you eaten?" I asked. "I could take over if you want?"

"Oh no! You couldn't possibly!" she said in a horrified and rushed way that suggested that it is simply unthinkable for Rhonda Lloyd to do household chores.

"It's fine. I want to take over. Come on, you look like you're about to faint. Get something to eat, will ya? And besides, how hard can ironing be?"

"Really?" she asked, warily and hopeful.

"Yes, Tell cook that Rhonda specifically asked you to put some meat into your bones. Go, I release you of your duties."

At that, Emilla squealed and hugged me then ran to the direction of the kitchen. I watched as she happily ran towards sustenance and cursed my father for overworking the poor staff… then again my father was not one for tyrannical ruling and Emilla does have a reputation for being a workaholic. This might be because she felt like she owes us as we were the ones who took her out of the streets, get her to finish high school and offered her a job. She has been eternally grateful ever since.

I remember the first time she came into the house at the age of seventeen when I was just nine years old. From then on, we developed sort of a bond shared by sisters which consisted of me sneaking to her room to watch Oprah as she sneakily provided me with junk food I wasn't allowed to eat. She's probably the person in this household I am closest to.

I love my parents. Obviously, but finding things in common with them has been too much of a hassle after I've gone through puberty. Add that with the very little time we spend with each other and you get yourselves a family who don't know each other very much. I know we've grown apart and partly I'm at fault but I know that someday I'm going to set things right.

With a sort of mental groan, I dragged myself to the laundry room, which was connected to the ironing room, a room which most of my childhood was spent on since the staff were a part of the group that consisted my closest friends. As soon as I reached the room, I knew there was a mountain of work behind it, so I put my game face on and opened the oak door. I passed by the washing machines lining up both sides of the laundry room then entered through the glass sliding door to the ironing room. I know, how many house have you heard to have an ironing room? A special room just to iron clothes on? If I was a middle class kid, I would have laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. Instead, I threw my expensive handbag on the corner bench, rolled up my imaginary sleeves and set to work in front of the new-looking ironing board.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"Oh, you look like a pro ironing those shirts!" Emilla praised as she popped her head in through the space between the glass sliding door, smiling. I sure hoped looked like a pro since I was sweating like one.

"Oh, you know, it's just something I do in my spare time?" I joked, waving a hand as if I've been doing the ironing my whole life, turning the shirt so the collar rests on the board. If I wasn't wrong, that was one of my dad's shirts. Remember the part when I said 'what's so hard about ironing?', I was dead wrong. Ironing shirts is hard. It's tiring. And the ironing room is stuffy, due to the spoilt air conditioning system that will be only fixed next week. No wonder Emilla looked as if she was about to faint. I felt a little bit faint myself.

"Really? An heiress having a hobby ironing shirts?" she asked, bemused. "How was the first few weeks of school anyway? I haven't had the chance to ask since I was so busy."

I arched a brow at the sudden change of topic. "Why?" I asked cautiously, huffing as I drove the iron through my dad's shirt and watched her as she sat at the corner bench, a huge smirk on her face. Emilla knew something.

"Just something I heard," she uttered casually. Too casually.

"Emilla! Tell me what it is you've heard!" I commanded, setting the iron down. She laughed as she looked at my face.

"You look like you're about to explode!" she guffawed and clutched her stomach in pure amusement. When she sobered up, I had my arms crossed, she told me while she stifled her laughter, "I heard that guy, who you kept complaining about since I came into this house, since you were nine years old, Curly, is now a stud muffin." She winked at me.

"He is not a stud muffin!" I protested loudly, wanting to conk her in the head with the iron as she continued laughing.

"I beg to differ because I saw him in person. I handle the clothes in this household, some materials are too sensitive for washing, you know that, so sometimes I have to go the drycleaners…"

"Where he helps out his parents," I continued for her.

"Yes, where he helps out his parents and stands there looking gorgeous for female customers to ogle. Even I can't help ogle him myself," she said with a wide smile.

"Emilla! You're twenty five! Curly is a kid! That's like… you're like a pedophile!" I screeched, pointing an accusing finger at her.

"I'm not a pedophile, I just have a great imagination, if I was only seven years younger. Oh, the things I would let that boy do to me…" she whispered almost dreamily, but I saw the laughter in her eyes enough to know that she was just joking.

"Eww. That's just wrong," I mumbled as I picked up the iron and started ironing my dad's already pressed shirt.

"Is that jealousy or bitterness I hear in your voice? Because I also heard that Curly's not after you anymore, he was seen hanging around town with a blonde bombshell." She was baiting me. It was our game. I just wasn't fully energized to be able to play it with her.

"No. There's no jealousy and I'm not bitter. Don't look at me like that! I'm not bitter! I think the food Cook served you got mixed with crazy pills. Must be why you're spouting non-sense after you ate," I muttered but couldn't help thinking, was I bitter?

How does one become bitter anyway? Because I'd like to stay sweet, if that's possible. And why in the name of Hades do humans compare people to tastes?

I ponder this as I let Emilla take over with the ironing, thanking me for the break she got. I nodded and told her I needed to do homework but as I glanced at her one last time, there was a gleam in her eyes that told me she knew more than she let on. It bothered me. I shook the feeling as I picked up my bag and escaped to my room… where I thought of the things she said and analysed everything in great detail.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The next day went by without a hitch until Chemistry after lunch, when I was paired with none other than, you guessed it, Thaddeus Gammelthorpe. He looked pissed off when Mr Thatcher called our names and told us we'd be partners during the experiment: to make copper sulphate crystals. Normally, I like Chemistry because you have to be precise and I like the constant measuring, it eases my nerves but the experiment already felt like a punishment before it even began. So when "Thad' dragged his chair next to mine with a lock of hair flopping attractively on his forehead, I promised to myself I would behave to the best of my ability. The rest of the students shuffled and switched places so that they can sit with their partners then once we were settle, Mr Thatcher gave us a briefing on how to conduct the experiment.

"Thad" sat down without so much as a sideway glance or any indication that he was aware of my presence, which is more than I can say for Allegra. The girl couldn't stop staring at me with her laserbeam eyes even if Mr Thatcher told her to face the front three times. She huffily followed the orders but before anyone knew it, she was back to glaring at me, like a metal drawn to a magnet. Her intention was clear… "back off my man" was the message.

The thing is, as I was sitting there with "Thad" previously known as Curly to many, I had this heightened sense of awareness like the hairs on the back of my neck were standing up and I felt this great current of energy in the air. My stomach didn't help either. My ears rang and I saw everything clearer and sharper. I felt absolutely alive as Mr Thatcher went on about acids and salts, as I stared at Curly and observed him closely, an opportunity I haven't had for weeks.

I gazed at his dark hair and how it looked soft as the light bounced off it. And his skin, glowing with a healthy tan that I wondered how he got. And his eyes, deep and dark brown, narrowed in focus at the board. And his body that…

"Are you staring at me?" a voice that came from the person I was staring at broke me out of my reverie. I could not help the flush of embarrassment that came with getting caught.

"Nah," I denied, "There's lint on your sweater." I pretended picking up imaginary lint on his sweater. He eyed me alarmingly the same time that his girlfriend "dropped" a test tube in the background, partnered with the shriek of her partner, Griscilla Milton. Mr Thatcher quickly stopped the briefing to scold the girls and to tell them to clean up the mess.

I smiled, staring up at Thad's eyes, putting the finger with the imaginary lint near my lips and then blowing on it causing his pupils to dilate. I can't say I blame him, he of all people should know the effect I have on men. But he wisely edged away from me, to save him from the scratches he would surely get from his catty girlfriend. I let myself enjoy it. The thrill and satisfaction of piquing his interest again.

Pissing Allegra off was heaven. I met her gaze head on as she cleaned the remains of the broken glass tube, she was muttering things under her breath, curses most likely. I beamed wider and scooted closer to Curly, she screamed and Mr Thatcher hurriedly went to her side.

"What the devil is the matter with you, Ms Harlton?" his loud voice boomed inside the Chemistry lab as all of us sat up ram rod straighter. He had that kind of power. A real life Zeus.

"I'm sorry, I thought I cut myself," she whimpered, pulling the innocent act. Unfortunately, Mr Thatcher bought it when Allegra looked as if she was close to tears. He was the kind of man uncomfortable around hysterical, crying females.

"That's alright," he soothed. "Just quickly clean this mess up so we can continue with the experiment."

And continue we did, Curly and I worked together side by side mixing chemicals together without talking. I told him the list of chemicals we need from the cupboard and he got them without so much as a word, just an expression of calm. He was steadfast and I despised it. I wanted him to mess up. I wanted to do something to hurt him… like he'd hurt me. But I couldn't. Didn't had the guts nor did I had the heart.

I realised in that chem lab as we combined sulphuric acid with copper (II) oxide powder that he had hurt me by turning to Allegra. He did. I realised then that I cared. I cared about him. He wouldn't have hurt me if I didn't care. He wouldn't have that power over me. I guess I got too comfortable with him by my side, praising me, adoring me that it never occurred to me he might leave me. Leave me just like that.

That one sucked. It was like a knife went through my heart, then the knife was twisted and more pain shoot out as I felt the warmth that shot up from my hand to my heart when he touched my skin accidentally as he reached for the glass rod.

I breathed in and stared at him. He was stirring the chemicals in the beaker, smiling at Allegra to comfort her. She smiled back. Her smile suggested things they would do later when they reunite.

And as all of this went on, something pretty stupid or bobo, even for me, happened. I saw Curly's eyes widened as he turned back to me, soon all of my other classmates were staring at me too. There was horror in their faces and I would not have realised what happened if it wasn't for the warmth I felt on my back and the smell of something acrid, something burning in the air.

The Bunsen burner left unattended had caused my long hair to catch fire and burst into flames. I couldn't do anything, useless as I was, just standing there appearing stupid, too scared to move. I watched in terror as the girls screamed , the boys watched in amazement and Mr Thatcher running toward me like a superhero with the fire extinguisher in his hands.

My scalp could feel the scorching heat. I thought I would burn alive. I couldn't scream. The sound robbed from my throat. However, all of a sudden, the heat was vanished, as if by magic. Someone dumped a splash of shocking cold water on me. I felt the surprising splash then noticed I was drenched from head to toe. The last thing I saw before I hit the chemistry lab floor and fainted was Curly, a panicked look on his face, a big red bucket hanging limply from his hand.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

_In which there is tension… oh boy._

De·ten·tion [dɪˈtɛnʃən]: **the act of detaining.**

"**I**t actually looks pretty awesome," Nadine said with a smile.

"I agree, it does suit you, Rhonda," Phoebe added.

"Doesn't look half-bad," Helga said nonchalantly.

"I think it looks absolutely great!" Lila piped in.

"You guys, that's not the point, I look like I did in the fourth grade!" I exclaimed, inspecting my new hairstyle through my tiny handheld mirror. The singed ends of my hair had to be cut. Unfortunately, my hairdresser went nutso and chopped away mercilessly. I ended up with a short bob that I absolutely loathed and I told her off until Helga had to drag me away, telling me to chill. If Helga is asking you to chill, it means you've reached your boiling point.

Helga laughed. "Maybe Curly will be reminded of your youthful self and he'll fall in love with you all over again. Of course, that'll be a plus point for you."

"Helga!" I said loudly in shock.

"What? Don't deny that you've been eyeing him." She looked at the others for support and they all glanced away guiltily. They all thought the same. Helga grinned at me, victorious. "I saw you during Chem."

"I have not been 'eyeing him'! Take that back!" I hissed.

"Will not and will never," she expressed smugly.

I glared at her and crossed my arms in annoyance.

She took my silence as an opportunity to attack. "_There's lint on your sweater, Thad!" _she mimicked, using a baby voice that I certainly did not use when I spoke to him.

"There was lint on his sweater!" I lied.

Helga shook her head while the others appeared worried. Lila was fiddling with her skirt. Phoebe was pretending to read the posters on my wall. Nadine was… was she whistling?

"Nope, there wasn't. Don't go Egyptian on us. You know what they say about The Nile…" She stuck out her tongue out. _So mature._

"And, that was a pretty heroic rescue for someone who pretends to not care about you anymore," she added and I froze. I have heard from them what Curly had done earlier today. They told me after I was released from the hospital. They needed to do a CAT scan just to see if I got any concussions due to the fall.

Helga's voice broke me out of my reverie. _"_As interesting as it is teasing you, I have a mountain of homework waiting for me at my desk and an article to write. I'm out of here. I'll see you guys on Monday. Pheebs, you coming?"

"Coming," she chirped and went out of my room with Helga after waving a goodbye to me.

After a few moments, Helga popped her head in the door, "Don't worry about it princess, I'm sure he'll take you back!"

In response, I threw a pink, fluffy pillow at her head but she was gone before it hit. It landed on the carpeted floor without a sound. I could hear her laughter down the hallway and Phoebe scolding her.

I glared at the two other _traitors_ beside me. I wish Sheena was here. She'd side with me.

"You guys actually believe her, don't you? Urgh, I can't believe this."

Lila, who disliked confrontation, tried to ease the situation. "You know Helga, she's just teasing you."

"But do you believe her?" I pressed on.

"Well, of course not," Nadine said with confidence. "You've never liked Curly, why would you start now?" She paused and tilted her head curiously. "Why are you so bothered about it anyway? It's not like it matters."

That stopped me. She was right, of course. Why was I so bothered about it?

"I'm not," I denied and faced them. "I'm not bothered at all.

Lila gave me a bright smile and then got up. "We have that history test to study for, I don't want to keep you."

"I have to go too, my mom wants to have dinner with the whole family," Nadine complained with an eye roll. I offered a sympathetic smile and she waved her hand, gesturing that it doesn't matter. Nadine's parents had been fighting a lot and recently her mother thought it was best to see a couple's therapist. The therapist suggested that there should be better communication, not only between the spouses but also between all the family members. Dinners were one of the ways.

"Alright, be safe on the way home."

And while Lila got up and packed her things, Nadine scooted closer to me and said in a low voice, "Speaking of history, Curly's been bothering you, huh?"

"Not like usual."

She nodded, if I might say, sympathetically?

"It's not him going up to you that is bugging you, it's the lack thereof. Thoughts of him are swirling in your head."

I guess I must have appeared startled because she gave me a smile and said, "I'm your best friend. I can always see right through you even if others don't."

"Helga did."

"Helga is a writer and from my experience they tend to be very intuitive."

"When did you have experience with writers?" I asked, shocked.

"I dated one," she said simply, and she seemed pretty satisfied with herself too.

"Where and when? And how did I not know about this?"

"It was on summer vacation, no big deal."

I studied Nadine's face for quite some time and I realized she was telling the truth. She did date a writer. Her eyes were sad, as if she were reliving her memories.

"Must have been an asshole."

Nadine laughed loudly, and Lila turned her head, seeing that it was nothing, she shrugged and went back to packing her bag.

"I'll tell you all about him someday."

I nodded.

"I'm done!" Lila announced. She was carrying her backpack gracefully. If there was one thing that Lila was very good at, it was being graceful at all times. The girl just exudes elegance and finesse under any circumstance. She once slipped on the wet floors of a school hallway once, just once, and I swear she made falling look like it was a ballet move. Ten guys rushed to her aid after that.

"About time," Nadine replied. They said their goodbyes to me and I told them to have a safe journey home too.

They exited immediately and left me alone with my niggling thoughts. The freak was the reason why my scalp did not end up like burnt bacon. I could have ended up charred. Or worse, in the hospital with third degree burns. He saved me with his quick thinking. I guess I owe him or something.

That was why on Monday, when I got back to school, I had every intention of thanking him. He deserved that. After all, I was uninjured because of him. What's more, I heard he was the one who carried me to the nurse's office and waited there until the ambulance came. The action definitely deserved gratitude. It's not like I just want to talk to him for no apparent reason. I'm thanking him. I have a legitimate reason to talk to him.

As I stepped inside the doors of East Farley I noticed the stares that people were giving me, it wasn't unusual that I was stared at but there was something different in the way they were observing me.

It was as if they were struggling to place me.

"Is tha- Is that Rhonda Lloyd?" I heard someone say.

"No. It can't be."

"It certainly looks like her."

"She would never do that!"

This was odd…

"I see your new haircut is the talk of the town. God, people around here_ really_ need to get a life," a voice chimed in. I turned to my left. Helga was keeping up beside me.

"Oh come on! These people cannot recognize me because of my hair?"

How shallow and dumb are they?

Helga gave me one of her looks, "You underestimate our peers. They are dumber than you give them credit for."

At that, I chortled.

I scanned the hallway to see if Curly, or should I say Thad, was around. I can thank him, and that would settle my debt, and then I can be on my way. Get it done quickly. It most certainly does not have anything to do with the fact that I want to talk to him.

"Wh- who are you looking for?" Helga asked, turning her head frantically, after observing me.

"Oh, just someone," I replied, like it wasn't anything.

Suddenly, Helga laughed, and with perverted grin, wrapped an arm around me. "That person wouldn't happen to be the topic of discussion on Friday night, would he?"

I elbowed her and glared. She laughed some more.

"I just want to thank him."

"Oh sure… Thank him."

Helga released me and went to her locker, which was about 3 lockers away from mine.

"I don't know why you're pushing this," I told her as I opened mine and pulled out my books.

"I don't know why I haven't figured it out so soon," she said, almost puzzled and surprised. She fiddled with her lock for awhile before getting the door to open.

"What?" I said, slamming my locker. Helga was beginning to annoy me.

She gave me a cryptic smile. "Oh, nothing."

"Is it about me?"

"Definitely."

"Just say it," I ground out.

"No. This one you need to figure out for yourself," she said mysteriously. "Look, there's that special someone you were searching for."

She pointed to someone behind me. I turned around and saw Curly. Making out with Allegra against the lockers. I frowned but made my way towards them. Helga followed closely behind. I cleared my throat to alert them of my presence and they broke apart, both flushed and heavy-lidded. Allegra had the "cat ate the canary" grin that made want to stab her in the face. Either she tired him out or sucked all the air out of his lungs with her big mouth because Curly was definitely out of breath.

"Hi Rhonda," Allegra said in a patronizing way, totally ignoring Helga. Then she narrowed her eyes. "Oh my God, what happened to your hair?"

"Oh, you know, it got burnt. I had to cut it," I said, trying to come off like I was not extremely annoyed that I ended up with my short unfeminine hair.

"I see," she said coolly. "So, what do you want?"

"Watch your tone, Princess," Helga cuts in.

Allegra stared angrily at Helga. "So should you," she replied haughtily.

"Hey, you want to start something?"

The two girls were immediately poised for battle. Helga clenched her fists. Allegra inhaled like she was getting into a new yoga pose. Curly was slightly alarmed. I was just really fighting the urge to giggle. This is ridiculous. These two have been barking at each other since freshman year and there still haven't been any bites.

"Maybe I do," Allegra replied. The commotion had caused the other students to look. Then they went back to their business when they saw it was just the two of them.

I still wanted to laugh but then I saw Helga's face. I quickly forced myself to shut up. She was angrier than usual.

"Bitch," Allegra added softly, thinking Helga wouldn't hear. Big mistake.

All hell broke loose. I didn't want to laugh then.

Old Betsy and the Five Avengers came out of retirement. Helga took a swing at Allegra and I hear the crowd go "ohhhh." Luckily, I pushed her out of the way so she missed.

"Stay out of my way, Rhonda. I've been wanting to mess that girl's face up for years!" Helga growled.

Of course, Helga's words only fuelled Allegra's anger. She stormed towards Helga but Curly held her back.

"You're a major bitch, Helga Pataki!" she yelled.

Oh my dear sweet God, how the hell did this escalate so quickly?

I just wanted to talk to Curly.

I had to do something. I felt partially responsible for mixing these two volatile people together until they became something approaching nuclear. With the speed I was surprised I had, I came in between Helga and Allegra and spread my arms to prevent them from bashing each other's face in.

"Guys, stop!" I yelled, spreading my limbs like a ridiculous peacock.

I thought it was a genius plan, Curly was holding Allegra back by grabbing her arms. I was acting as the barrier. And it was working. That was only until Allegra's arm got lose from Curly's grip and she threw a punch. I was the one hit hard on the ribcage instead of Helga.

It was though the world tilted to one side very, very slowly. I heard Helga in a deep, slow voice in the background saying, "Ohhhhhhhh shiiiiiiiit!" I saw a diagonal version Allegra and Curly's wide eyes and the arms of my schoolmates stretch out as if they could catch me.

As I was falling, I still tried to regain my balance and my outstretched arms flailed about me comparable to the wings of a struggling baby chick. With a crunch, my hand landed on the fire alarm and broke the glass. I gasped at the pain and could do nothing but stare at my throbbing hand. A shrill ring sounded the whole school before it started raining inside the school.

I, Rhonda Lloyd, a girl who had never been in trouble, had just committed a class II felony.

Allegra shrieked while I saw Helga made a mad dash for the school doors, so did our other classmates. Students were screaming, some frightened that they have ruined an outfit while others, mostly the guys, were yelling in a celebratory manner and were doing pretty amazing impressions of happy cavemen. They were giving high-fives and sliding on the floors with their sneakers.

Curly and I stood there, wet because of the sprinklers, shivering, staring at each other in shock. The hallway is almost empty and my hand was still on the alarm. And that's how Mr. Jenkins, the discipline master found us.

::::::::::::::::::::

"**I**t's really nice of your Allegra to do this for us."

"Allegra was not the one who approached us and then made threats, that was you."

"That was Helga."

"Oh, how can I forget?"

"Will you just get off your high horse, Thaddeus Gammelthorpe? What I can't wrap my head around is why you'd actually take the blame to protect your undeserving, bitchy girlfriend?"

"Why, are you jealous?"

"I'm not jealous."

"You sound jealous."

"No." I huffed. "I don't like you."

"Why doesn't that surprise me? Oh yeah, it might be because that's how you've felt about me for years and have never failed to be vocal about it," he bit out in a bitter tone.

"That's not…"

"That's not what? That's not true? Huh, could have really fooled me."

Someone cleared his or her throat and we both looked up. Mrs. Lopez was peering at us behind the counter with a judgmental stare only an adult who has been through a lot could pull off. I could almost see the thought "White People Problems" above her head as she shook it.

"Are you both done?" she asked. It was apparent that you do not say no to

this type of woman.

We both nodded. I noticed that we were still really damp.

"Good. Mr. Flanagan would see you now," she snapped in annoyed tone.

I wanted to continue sitting down. I've never been in major trouble, except for that one time I drove my dad's car into a tree, and it did not bode well for my stomach. It was twisting and turning in a way that would do Cirque du Soleil proud.

Curly, who had been in situations like this before, appeared really comfortable as if he was just going to the toilet and not to the principal's office. He gave me a strange look after seeing that I was still sitting down.

"You're scared," he laughed.

I stood up, a sharp pain in my stomach emerged. "I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"Shut up."

Here's the deal with Mr. Flanagan, he is an old Irish man who used to be a part of the police force. Mr. Flanagan, having immigrated to America at a late age, still talked in a thick Irish accent. He is the toughest principal we have ever had and because of him, delinquency at our school is at an all time low. He is just that scary.

What scares me more is that the boy who I'm going with into his office does not seem to be scared of him.

Curly opens the door to the office as if he had done it a million times. He even has the audacity to look really bored. Me, I was terrified. Pulling the fire alarm, even though in my case it was an accident, was still equivalent to calling the police when there is no emergency.

This is going to make it back to my parents.

I'm dead. I'm going to die.

We both entered the room and Mr. Flanagan is sitting behind his desk. His white hair was combed to the left side as usual and he was wearing his everyday uniform of an ill-fitted brown suit.

"Sit down, both of ye."

We did.

"I will have to applaud both of ye for having the ability to cause trouble without the school day even starting yet. Today, my staff, the staff who are paid to perform other important tasks such as teaching the student body, had to call the parents of every single one of yer peers to inform them that classes have been cancelled because the whole school is sopping wet!" He said the last part in the highest volume my eardrums could take. A great blue vein was throbbing at the side of his forehead. I stared at it and used it as hypnotizing tool that would take me to a happier place.

Beside me, Curly was humming. It was an old 80's hit. Mr. Flanagan paid him no mind.

"Ms. Lloyd, can you please explain to me exactly what happened?"

I kept quiet, playing with my fingers.

"Ms. Lloyd!" he yelled, slamming the table.

"It's Allegra's fault!" I burst out saying.

He gave me an unimpressed, stern stare. "Really, Ms. Lloyd? That is the best detailed explanation you can come up with?"

I gulped and I swore to myself that when I got out of there alive I would slap Curly's face for smiling at my discomfort like a fool when he was sitting right beside me, while I was getting scolded by the principal.

"Mr. Flanagan, what happened was that I just wanted to talk to Thad here, as he likes to call himself nowadays, due to a situation that happened on Friday. I wanted to thank him."

Curly stopped smiling and gave me another unreadable sideways glance.

"Friday? What happened on Friday?"

"Uh, I was almost burned alive. He saved my life," I explained.

"Ah, the girl who was sent to the hospital."

I am now known as that girl. Great.

"That's all well and good but what does this melodrama have to do with anything?" Mr. Flanagan asked.

"His quick thinking, of course, deserves my gratitude, I just wanted to thank him. He was the one that poured the bucket of water on me. Anyway, that's not important. So, I came up to him this morning, Helga was with me and Allegra was… er, with him. I really just wanted to quickly get the gratitude part over with when Allegra started talking to Helga in a disrespectful manner. Helga, of course, being Helga…"

"I am aware of Ms. Pataki's temper," he sighed.

"Yes, well, she got very angry and I tried to ease the tension but it was no use. So I came in between them, Cu- Thad, held Allegra back. He didn't do a very good job though since Allegra cut loose, punched me in the ribs and because of that my hand hit the alarm."

I didn't expect to Mr. Flanagan to believe this true but totally unbelievable story but he just nodded. I guess, he must have seen the tape. If I didn't short-circuit the cameras already.

"I see, so it was, what you would call, an accident?"

I nodded, very happy with his conclusion. He must have been a great detective when he was with the police.

"Then, so what are you doing here in my office, Mr. Gammelthorpe?"

Curly grinned and said, "Frankly, sir, you have the nicest office out of all the other principals' offices I've been in. I love being in here."

For a split second, Mr. Flanagan appeared to be flattered then he recovered. "Very funny, Mr. Gammelthorpe. Answer the question."

"I'm here to represent Ms. Carlton," he said simply.

"What are you, her lawyer?" I spat.

He ignored me.

"Ms. Lloyd," Mr. Flanagan stressed on my surname.

I shut my mouth.

"Representation, hm. I am guessing, in Ms. Carlton's place, you will receive the punishment?"

Curly dipped his head as a form of yes and I crossed my arms as a form of outrage.

"Alright, I have assessed the situation and here's what's going to happen," Mr. Flanagan said. Both Curly and I stared paying him full attention.

"It was an accident but you take responsibility for it, yes Ms. Lloyd?"

"Uh, er- yes?"

He turned to Curly.

"And you Mr. Gammelthorpe, take responsibility for Ms. Carlton's actions."

He replied with a yes as well.

"Very well, detention for both of you. Since you have generously offered yourselves up in the place of both, Misses Helga Pataki and Allegra Carlton, I have decided that your detention will consist of cleaning up the mess you have made."

"But Mr. Flana-"

"I'm not finished, Ms. Lloyd. You will not be going home today like your classmates. You will be mopping the school floors until every little spot is dry. You will have one hour for lunch after which, you will go back to your mopping duties. Are we clear?"

"Crystal, sir," Curly replied and started getting off his chair.

"And you, Ms. Lloyd?"

"Yes," I said. My voice was shaking because of anger. Anger at the unfairness of it all.

As soon as we left the room, Curly started quivering with withheld laughter. I slapped him in the face and made my way to the janitor's closet. I didn't see Mrs. Lopez face but I was sure she was cheering for me.

::::::::::::::::::::

"**C**ould you pass me the mop? To your left, Rhonda. How about the plastic broom? Hello, Rhonda! Hello? Hey, are you angry at me?"

I pretended not to hear him. It's been five hours in. It was about seven fifty when the incident happened and it was about nine when we left Mr. Flanagan's office. We've had our lunch. He went out to buy some McDonalds, I stayed in and got sandwiches from the vending machine. My arms were sore. I was tired and irritated. I just wanted to go home.

I heard his steps getting closer.

I closed my eyes and sighed, then continued mopping away the water to the nearest drainage hole.

"Can you just talk to me?" he asked.

I didn't respond.

"Come on, it's been five hours."

I mopped faster.

"Was it true you came to thank me this morning?"

Maybe if I replied he would just leave me alone. I gave a non-committal yes. I heard him get closer.

"So… thank me."

That's it!

I turned around and gave him a piece of my mind.

"You are not getting a word of thanks from me. This morning, I actually thought I kind of owe you something for Friday. So I thought I wanted to thank you. Me, owing you something! How delusional was that, huh, Thad? But today, after all you and your girlfriend has put me through, I think we're pretty fucking even, don't you think so?"

I tried to normalize my breathing while I look at him. This wasn't the Curly I grew up with. Who is this young man with his dark shaggy hair, polo tee and hipster jeans? I don't even know him anymore.

"Why are you so angry? Are you angry over this?" he asked.

"Yes. No. I don't know." I hate how my voice shook over the last part and I couldn't look at him.

He didn't say anything for a while after my reply. We just stood there in awkward silence. What he did say next was something I would never expect.

"I like your hair."

I looked up and he was staring at me, a hand scratching the back of his neck.

Not knowing what to do, I started to say, "Thanks, yours too. I meant," I rolled my eyes, "I like yours too."

He nodded. We got back to mopping.

::::::::::::::::::::

"**R**honda Lloyd! I heard you've been busy at school today," my mother said sternly as soon as I entered the house. I was so tired at that point that I didn't care. She seemed to sense it too.

"Mr. Flanagan's punishment took a heavy toll on you, huh?" she said in a softer tone.

I burst into tears and she quickly hugged me.

"Does Daddy know?" I asked.

"No, he's on a business trip. Couldn't reach him since that resort always had bad reception. You must be tired, go upstairs."

I went straight up to my room and smiled deviously to myself. Guilt trip always worked.

I just really wanted to be alone after a day with Curly. It was starting awaken a plethora of feelings I already had before the change, before his transformation.


End file.
